Elegy for the Living

Abstract

Elegy for the Living David Huddle (bio) Teresa, who's eighty-six nowand in her thirty-third dayat the hospital, has been inand out of the ICU and her mind. Never an easy person, Teresa'sso weak now it takes two peopleto move her from bed to chair,though within minutes she begs to be helped back into bed.Profoundly physically weak,Teresa's power has grownimmense—in Florida, Vermont, Wisconsin, California, Texas,Teresa's brother, sister,daughters, granddaughters,sons-in-law, sister-in-law, old, old friends, all of usdream, talk, write, think mostlyabout Teresa. This morningshaving I remembered lashing out at Teresa to stop treatingme like her yard boy, then wastreated to remorse over wordsI spoke thirty years ago. Now Doctors have dictated wholebooks of medical ordersfor Teresa, nurses have devotedhundreds of hours of care to her, [End Page 78] have administered Teresa drugsenough to murder ten rhinocerosesor end a third world epidemic,a machine has breathed for her the five days Teresa couldn't pullbreath into her chest, they've shockedher heart back to its proper beat,they've lifted several thousand spoonfuls of food to Teresa's lips,they've given Teresa clean sheetstwo or three times a day, and so manytubes, needles, units of blood, IVs, and monitors, have managedto keep eighty-six year old Teresaalive—Teresa who some days agoout of the terrifying jumble and chaos of her mental archives, calledout, as if to someone standingjust there in the hallway shadows,Oh mother, I think I'm dying! [End Page 79] David Huddle David Huddle is from Ivanhoe, Virginia, and is currently the Visiting Distinguished Professor of Creative Writing at Hollins University. The author of sixteen books of poetry, fiction, and essays, his work has appeared in The New Yorker, Harpers, Esquire, and the Georgia Review. Copyright © 2010 Berea College